Just Here Today
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: A oneshot for Notgonnadie's contest on DA, it's based on her Little Zim comic. What happens to Zim when Dib isn't home?


Just Here Today

Zim swallowed, hurrying along the corridor. He didn't want to hurry, he didn't want to go anywhere the Professor led him, but dragging his feet meant punishments beyond the usual experiments, and the experiments were bad enough.

The footsteps behind him sounded off briskly, as if impatient to see him to his destination. They passed several doors, and Zim's spooch clenched as they continued. He knew which experiments went on in each one, and they got progressively worse as he continued. His eyes fell on the last door, and he stopped, his knees going weak.

"What's the matter?" The Professor growled behind him. "That's the right room."

Zim turned, eyes wide. "P-Professor, do we have to go in that one today?"

"Yes, yes." He replied sternly. "There's a new procedure I need to implement today, and I want to see how you hold up. You should be fine. Now move."

Zim turned toward the door and numbly forced himself forward. The Professor opened the door for him.

Zim's knees buckled at the sight of the table. It was just his size with belts and straps to hold him down. A basin underneath would catch his blood while a tube would feed it from the spillage back into his body. The tray to the right of it held all kinds of sharp implements that gleamed wickedly in the overhead light.

A sharp kick threw him several feet into the room. "Get up. I'm not carrying you over there."

Forcing himself to his feet, Zim stumbled toward the table. Shaking, he clambered up and laid himself down on it.

Membrane quickly slid the straps through the buckles, tightening them around Zim's chest, legs, and arms. Membrane picked up a pair of shears and cut through Zim's shirt, laying it open.

A small whimper escaped Zim, and the Professor glared through reflective goggles. "Is there a problem, Zim?"

"N-no Professor, no problem." Zim's antennae trembled.

"Good. Now." He picked up a scalpel and laid it against Zim's chest. Then moved it down over his spooch. With a quick slice, he laid open the skin, clamping each side back before Zim even began to scream.

And scream he did. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but every time it hurt worse. It wasn't just the pain of his skin being torn and his organ being prodded, it was the _wrongness_, the _otherness_ of a hand reaching where it shouldn't be reaching. His entire body and mind rebelled at the idea of it.

The Professor's hand grasped his squeedly spooch and his world tilted. Turning his head to the side, he vomited, the contents of his spooch emptying past the hand that held it. The other hand cracked across his face. "Keep your bodily functions to yourself, if you please. My lab must be sterile!"

Tears filled Zim's eyes as he croaked hoarsely, the pain still stabbing him. He wanted Dib. Dib couldn't protect him, he knew that. Dib was as much under the Professor's power as he was, but if Dib could just hold his hand, he'd be able to make it through this. He clenched his eyes shut and pretended that Dib stood there, holding his claws and staring hatefully at the Professor. Yes, he liked that.

"Done."

Zim blinked. It was over?

Of course not. Not quite. The Professor threaded a surgical needle and began to stitch Zim's skin back together. Zim's voice, already tired from his earlier screams, only gave raspy cries. In spite of the pain, he felt a surge of relief. The worst was over. Soon the Professor would let him return to the house, and he'd be able to see Dib.

Sure enough, Membrane finished the stitching and wrapped a hasty bandage around his middle. Unstrapping him, he opened the door, glaring. "Get out. I have to clean the lab after your mess. Go on."

Zim staggered out the door. Outside, he fell to his hands and knees. He wouldn't be able to walk back, but maybe he could crawl. The concrete floor felt nice and cold under his hot palms. The cold was kind, seeping through his skin and cooling his blood.

He just needed to get to Dib… Dib would fix everything. That's what brothers did, they fixed things. He dragged himself up just enough to reach the handle of the last door and stumbled through.

"Dib," he croaked. "Dib!"

No answer. With a sinking heart, he realized Dib wasn't home from Skool yet. It would be at least an hour before he was. Numbly, he turned to the television. He collapsed onto the couch and used the remote to turn it on. Maybe it would help him forget until Dib came back. Then everything would be okay. Until then…

"Oh, Juan…"


End file.
